


Communication

by avienexjel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes-centric, Crushes, Dorks in Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Tony Stark, POV Bucky Barnes, Pining, Pining Bucky Barnes, Pining Tony Stark, Requited Unrequited Love, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:06:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: Clearly, Tony does not love Bucky back.  No, Tony's definitely in love with some OTHER jerk with a metal arm.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 414





	Communication

**Author's Note:**

> written for sparkynoodle (leia) :) thank you for your support <3

****

_ **Communication** _

The first time Bucky realizes he's in love with Tony, it's seven am in the morning. They're both stumbling toward the coffee machine, fresh off another sleepless night, and Tony's wearing an oversized sweatshirt that emphasizes his small stature. He's bleary-eyed and rumpled, and his hair is tufted every which way; his fingers barely peek out past the edges of his sleeves. Bucky smiles fondly as he watches his friend reach blindly for a mug and then pout when his hands miss the mark.

"Need a little help?" Bucky says in mild amusement. Tony makes a face at him, his brown eyes indignant beneath a fringe of overlong curls. 

"I can get my coffee just fine," he huffs, almost dropping his empty mug in the process. His glare intensifies when Bucky just snickers at him.

"Are you sure you should be handlin' that?"

"What, the coffee?"

"Everything." Bucky gently tugs the mug away from Tony's grasping fingers and helps him pour a cup, mindful of the fact that Tony takes it black. "Here."

"Oh, yeah, haven't slept in fifty eight hours," Tony mumbles absentmindedly, waving a hand. "Or sixty eight. Don't really know."

Bucky sighs. Tony's literally going to die one day; even a genius brain needs eight hours a night to function. "I don't think that's healthy."

Tony just yawns and shrugs.

As Bucky moves up to the counter to pour his coffee, he snags a packet of sugar to see Tony crinkle his nose up at him. "Problem?" he says as he fluidly pours a cup of creamer into his mug.

"You put... _ things  _ in your coffee," says Tony in a voice so scandalized that Bucky can't help but chuckle.

"Somethin' wrong with that?" 

"Fake coffee," Tony grumbles, his narrowed eyes peeking out over the rim of the mug. He cups it with both hands almost tenderly, as if he's holding something living. It's more adorable than it should be. Bucky frowns a second later—where had  _ that  _ come from?

He's interrupted from his thoughts as Tony shuffles around him, his body pressing in close to Bucky's as he reaches around for his phone, which has been left on the counter. Immediately, Bucky's skin breaks into gooseflesh, and he shivers. He's suddenly hyper-aware of Tony's closeness, the heat of him, the smell of that coconut shampoo he wears. 

"Bucky?" Tony's peering at him, eyebrows drawing in. He's drawn back, phone in hand, sometime during when Bucky had spaced out. "Are you okay?"

"Um." Bucky shakes himself. He smiles at Tony (Tony, whom he's friends with, whom he's seen every day and has never viewed as anything else until now) and nods. "Sorry, was thinkin' about something. Let's go?"

"Go," Tony agrees through another jaw-cracking yawn, and he slips ahead of Bucky. It's only when Bucky's brain decides to split into two sides—one side arguing for how  _ adorable  _ Tony looks in that huge sweatshirt and the other pointing out that the meddlesome thing only serves to cover up his ass—does Bucky know he's in trouble. Big,  _ big  _ trouble.

Once he gets out of his huge garbage heap of panic and denial, the first person he goes to is Steve. Steve will...well, hopefully he'll understand. Steve is currently in a wonderful relationship with Peggy Carter, one of the other juniors at SHIELD, and honestly, those two didn't spend too much time pining until they both decided to go for it and plant one on the other's lips. So maybe Steve won't understand how Bucky can never,  _ ever  _ go after Tony, not if he wants to keep the tentative friendship they've built over the past year.

Of course, Bucky ends up being right and he has to wallow in shame as Steve says, "Okay, so ask Tony out. Easy peasy."

"No, it's  _ not  _ easy peasy, Steve," Bucky replies, disgruntled. "I can't just— _ ask  _ him out. He's  _ Tony." _

_ "So?"  _ Steve says, rolling his eyes. "So what if he's Tony? You're not friends with Tony Stark, you're friends with  _ Tony— _ the person, not the guy people see in the tabloids. You know him, you like him. So go ask him out."

"That's exactly the problem!" Bucky hisses, throwing his hands up in the air. "He's  _ Tony!  _ He's—hell, he's probably straight! I'd rather he be straight! Then it would hurt less when I find inevitable proof that he would never like me."

Steve just gives him an extraordinarily flat look. "Tony's not straight," he begins carefully, "and you know that, Buck. Second of all, Tony thinks highly of you. Trust me."

Bucky snorts. "As if," he says, and casts a forlorn glance out the window of their dorm room. "And even if he did, it would only be as friends."

Steve purses his lips like he desperately wants to say something but can't. "You should just go for it," he sighs after a while. "I can't make you do what you don't want to do, but you really should just go for it. If Peggy and I hadn't—"

Bucky groans. "Okay, okay, no more 'Peggy and I's,  _ please.  _ I get it, you guys are a fantastic couple."

Steve shrugs. "Well, we are."

And that's that. 

In the back of his head, Bucky knows that Steve's right. He's not going to get anywhere if he doesn't do anything about his crush. But Tony? Tony's—well, for lack of a better all-inclusive descriptor, Tony's  _ amazing.  _ He's sweet, he's kind, he's funny, he's passionate, he's  _ good;  _ and he's really cute to boot. Bucky would never be able to live up to the beauty that is Tony Stark. Hell, he's just some gym bum with a metal arm.

So he stuffs the feelings down. The crush will go away—it has to. After all, his type is normally busty brunettes who like to have fun and aren't very serious about a quick hookup or two. Tony's the complete opposite of that—he's male, for one, but he also has this sharp quick shine in his eyes, and he can talk for hours about engineering, and his heart is so big that it almost hurts, and—most importantly—he's never shown even the slightest inch of interest in Bucky. He's just Tony. And that's exactly the reason why Bucky must satisfy himself with the hand of friendship that Tony's extended—because at the end of the day, he'll take what he can get. And if what he gets is Tony being happy without him, Tony someday being happy with somebody else, then so be it.

Sleepover Fridays became a thing in their friend group ever since Bruce had a severe panic attack after a nightmare one Friday night and nothing would calm him down beside the sight of all his friends surrounding him. Bruce has gone through a lot of trauma in his life and is constantly afraid that people will die or in some way leave him when he's least expecting it; and so naturally, Tony was the one to decide that "fuck the rules, I'm establishing Sleepover Fridays."

Technically, girls and boys aren't allowed to cohabitate in one dorm room, but Wade Wilson—their questionable RA—doesn't snitch, and so he just winks and waves them on when Tasha, Clint, and the rest of their group sneak down the hallway to where Bruce and Tony are situated.

Today's Friday, so Bucky's scrambling to pack up his toiletries and find a pajama top. Steve snickers at him when Bucky picks up a shirt, sniffs it, and then throws it aside with a disgusted look on his face. "I know you're trying to impress Tony, but I'm sure he'll appreciate you being there regardless of how awful you smell."

"Whatever," Bucky mutters. "And I'm not doin' it for Tony, I just don't wanna smell like you."

Steve grins at him like the little shit he is, and  _ hell,  _ Bucky can't figure out how his friend has got so many teachers and stern folks wrapped around his thumb. "Sure, Buck. Sure."

They wrap up their belongings and then head up to the third floor. When they arrive, everyone else is already there, either crammed onto the beanbag in one corner of the room (Clint) or piled onto Bruce's and Tony's beds.

"Hey, Steve. Bucky," Tony says with a bright grin. He bounces up and down on the bed a little, and Bucky can't help the soft smile that slips onto his face at Tony's excitement. Steve just gives him a look that says,  _ Jesus you're besotted.  _ Clearly, Bucky hasn't improved a bit from his confession to Steve ten months ago.

"Alrighty, time to start the party," Clint crows. He throws a piece of popcorn from the gigantic bowl in his lap straight at Steve, who just manages to catch it in his mouth. 

"Hey, birdbrain, watch the littering," Tony warns. He pats the bed. "Come sit."

Bucky crawls onto Tony's bed, heart thumping at the fact that he's on Tony's bed, gets to sit on Tony's bed, where Tony sleeps and dreams and has touched every fold and thread of the sheets. Unfortunately, Natasha's taken up the space right next to Tony, but Bucky's sitting right next to Tony's pillow and he's got half an urge to just pick it up to get a whiff of that coconut shampoo scent…

Okay. He needs to stop. He may have a crush, but he's no creep. And besides, it's not like it's the first time he's sat on Tony's bed. Far from it, actually. It's just...his head and his heart, they're singing  _ Tonytonytony,  _ and by  _ God  _ it's hard for Bucky to think straight.

Steve takes the spot leftover on Bruce's bed, and they settle down to talk for awhile. Tony's apparently got a brand new idea for a simple AI, and everyone—Bucky especially—is content to listen and let him ramble about all this complicated-sounding coding that Bucky doesn't understand a whit of but loves hearing about nonetheless. 

"I don't know what I'm gonna name him yet," Tony says, a note of pride coloring his voice, "but he'll be mine."

Eventually, they all move onto gathering on the carpet to watch shows on Tony's Stark-made laptop—"new episode of Black Mirror, c'mon," Clint wheedles, and everyone's quick to agree, because, like,  _ Black Mirror— _ and Tony, Natasha, and Bucky stay perched on the bed and drape over the sides to watch alongside their other friends. Bucky feels intensely jealous when, halfway through the episode, Tony snuggles into Natasha's side and  _ stays  _ there. Tony's known to latch onto any warm body when he's tired or in need of the human contact he's so deprived of at home, and if Bucky had just been sitting in the middle… 

Natasha begins carding her fingers through Tony's thick curls, and Bucky has to consciously relax his body before he decides to do something he'll regret. He would never take someone from Natasha, never, but he can't help but wish that Tony would cuddle up against him instead.

He hears Natasha whisper "I'm sorry,  _ Antoshka"  _ at her hip a while later. The room is dark, lit only by the dim blue glow of the laptop screen; it is now nine pm, and the atmosphere has this slow, muddy sort of murkiness, the way it is when time seems to slow at night. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Tony whines and clutches at her, but she just laughs lightly at him and pries his arms off her shoulders. "Shh, don't worry." Natasha turns to give Bucky an amused look, almost like she  _ knows  _ what he's thinking, and his face burns. "Go snuggle with Barnes instead. You'll feel better."

From the floor, Clint snorts.

Immediately, Tony crawls over and plops next to Bucky, resting his head on Bucky's thigh. "You're really warm," he slurs into the fabric of the sweatpant pressed against his cheek, nosing into the crook of Bucky's knee. Bucky is one hundred percent sure that Tony can't see the screen at all from the angle he's facing, but he chooses to ignore this tiny fact for the realization that  _ holy shit, Tony.  _

Bucky hopes to God Tony can't feel the pulse of blood in his thigh, because in his chest his heart is banging like a drum. Tentatively, he puts an arm around Tony's shoulders because he can't figure out what else to do with his hands, and Tony grabs onto his wrist and cuddles it to his chest. On the floor, Steve's head is cocked around and he's full-on  _ smirking _ , and Bucky narrows his eyes at the blond even as he adjusts himself to be a comfier pillow for Tony. 

Screw what Steve thinks. He can deal with his...crush, love, whatever, on his own. It's not like he's thinking about kissing Tony right now, when Tony's so pliant and warm in his lap. It's not like he stays awake at night imagining the way Tony's voice would hoarsen and  _ tremble  _ as Bucky—

He takes a deep breath and tries to focus even though he's hyper-aware of Tony's face on his knee and his head is spinning. 

"Th'nk 'm g'na…," Tony mumbles into his thigh.

"Hm?" Bucky says. He peers over at the small bundle pressed against him, but Tony doesn't say anything else. 

"Shh," Bruce says from where he sits against the edge of the bed. He looks over at Tony and frowns. "He must be exhausted."

On further examination, Tony looks stressed and tired, even in sleep. There's a crease between his eyebrows, and though it's too dark to see properly in the room, Bucky knows that there are deep rings beneath Tony's eyes. Without even registering what he's doing, he runs his hand through the thick brown mass of hair, moving his thumb in slow circles against Tony's scalp. Slowly, the crease between Tony's eyebrows begins to smooth out.

"Wait," Clint says, pausing the episode briefly. He swivels around to shoot a discerning look at Bucky. "You guys  _ aren't  _ dating, right? No dating going on? No kissing, fucking, none of that?"

"Uh—what?" Bucky says, completely lost. 

"You're not fucking Tony, right," Clint replies exasperatedly. "Right?"

Bucky jerks and then stills instantly a second later. Luckily, Tony seems to be dead asleep on his leg. "Why would I be—no, of course not!"

Clint raises his hands. "Hey, just making sure. There's no way in hell I'm losing this bet."

_ "What,"  _ Bucky says.

"Friend Bucky," Thor says with a great beaming smile. "Do you not know about the wagers we have placed on the conjoining of you and Anthony?"

Clint moans.  _ "Thor,  _ he's not supposed to  _ know  _ about it!"

As Thor hastens to apologize, looking properly chastened, Bucky's head begins to spin again. He wants to jump off the bed and bully his friends into confessions, but that would risk waking Tony up, and there's no way in hell he's doing that. "Okay, what's going on?" he demands.

Right as Clint winces and opens his mouth, Natasha slips back into the dorm. She chances one look at all of their faces and rolls her eyes. "Bucky, we all placed bets on when you and Tony will get your heads out of your asses and get together."

"What?" Bucky sputters.

"You've been saying that a lot," Clint notes.

Bucky huffs angrily. "You guys shouldn't be—Tony would never—y'know, I'm sick and tired of people tellin' me I should be gettin' my head out of my ass when there's nothing to speak of."

"Okay, we're sorry," Natasha concedes. "But Bucky...we just want you to be happy."

"You're not doin' a great job of convincing me of that." Bucky removes his hand from where it's been lying atop Tony's head even though his heart twinges. "I...I don't want to be reminded of what I can't have."

"Tony  _ literally—,"  _ Clint begins, but Natasha holds up a hand. 

"It's Tony's secret to keep," she says, even though there's something—frustration?—glinting in her eyes. "Okay, Bucky. We won't talk about it again."

Bucky nods roughly. In his lap, Tony murmurs something unintelligible.

They recommence the show, but if Bucky couldn't concentrate before, he definitely can't concentrate now. Instead, his feelings have turned into sludge inside him, and he feels heavy. Tired. He scoots back to lean against the wall, careful not to disturb Tony, and then closes his eyes. With a soft sigh, he finally allows himself to relax, and he drifts off to the sound of the laptop playing tinnily below.

Tony is in another manic stage four days later. He comes running up to Bucky after classes, his brown eyes wild, and his smile is just bordering on the edge of crazed. "Buckybuckybuckybucky," he chants. Bucky notes that Tony's also wearing his signature glasses—rounded at the sides with a cheetah print—and an olive green sweater. Not to mention that his hair is combed down today, not tufted up, and Bucky's really gonna have a heart attack.

"Hey, Tony," he greets as casually as he can manage. "What's up?"

"Idea," Tony blurts. "Me, idea, you, idea?"

"Mind tellin' me what the idea is?" Bucky says, his mouth curling up into an inadvertent smile. 

"Ruins the  _ surprise,"  _ Tony sighs, and grabs Bucky's hand. "Come with me Buckybucky. Important."

Bucky allows himself to be dragged away, but internally he's freaking out a little. Important what? He hasn't done anything wrong, has he? It's ridiculous, but he can't help imagining that Tony's surprise is gonna be something like, "Sorry, Terminator, but we can't be friends anymore—I know you like me and it's just too weird."

Tony leads him up several flights of stairs in the science building until they're at a door clearly marked "Do Not Enter." Tony tries to hide the poorly concealed pride in his grin as he pulls a key out of his pocket and wags it in Bucky's face. "I know, I know, we're not supposed to be going up here," he says in lieu of a proper explanation, "but Yinsen gave me a bit of leeway. He told me no, but I'm pretty sure he meant yes, 'cause he left the key in the keyhole when I was closing up the lab yesterday night."

"What exactly are we doing, Tony," Bucky says slowly. "Because doll, I'm not sure if you've slept since Sleepover Friday, and I wanna make sure I'm not walkin' into any explosions here."

Tony's staring at him, wide-eyed and deadly still and his cheeks going a bright red for a moment before pinging back into motion. "No, no, it's nothing like that," he says hurriedly, waving his hands around. "And I  _ have  _ slept since Friday, I just didn't sleep last night, but like, that's okay, Dad says sleep is for babies, Stark men have to work—"

"Your dad is  _ wrong,"  _ Bucky says fiercely, and almost regrets it when Tony shuts up and goes pale. "Sorry. But, listen. Your dad expects a lot out of you, and sometimes it's too much—not because you're not good enough, but because no human could possibly expect to accomplish as much in one night as your dad expects of you, let alone what you expect of yourself. You've already far surpassed what most of the people in this world _ dream _ of doin', so I'm pretty sure it's okay if you graduate summa cum laude and go to MIT and win a Nobel Peace Prize all in four years instead of three."

Tony harrumphs, but at least he looks a little less panicky now. "You underestimate me, Barnes. If I tried hard enough, I could probably accomplish that in half the time."

"Yeah, you could," Bucky says with a smile, ignoring the way Tony's own smile is plastic. "So. You gonna show me what's past that door, or do I have t' do it myself?"

Tony leads him up a set of stairs until they reach another door labeled ROOF ACCESS in bold capital letters, unlocking it using a different key on the ring. "After you," Tony says, flourishing an arm. 

"Who knew you could be such a gentleman."

On the rooftop, it takes a brief second for Bucky's eyes to adjust. At first he just sees sky—the clouds are beginning to split and let the setting sun peek through—and then he spots a sheet of elastic trash can liner spread out at the edge of the roof. On top of the sheet are two bean bags and in between them, two bottles of original Shelbyville grape-cherry soda. The kind he hasn't been able to find in ages.

"What's this, Tony," Bucky says slowly.

"Well," Tony says after a half-second. His smile comes a beat too late. "It's your birthday!"

"My birthday is March 10," Bucky tells him, his heart sinking. "It's September 16."

"Your  _ half  _ birthday," Tony clarifies. "I'm saving any and all gifts for March so that it'll be a better surprise, but I thought maybe you'd want to do something today."

The corners of Bucky's mouth tug upward of their own volition. This is all just so...Tony. "You don't have to celebrate my half-birthday, y'know. I don't think many people do."

"Yeah, well." Tony shrugs. "I heard there was supposed to be a great sunset tonight. And I wanted to."

"So, what? We're gonna watch the sun set then?"

"Yeah." Tony shoots a quick, furtive glance at him. "Unless you don't want to. I know it's kind of lame, I just thought maybe we could spend more time together? I mean—I've been seeing everyone so much lately, but I know you've been really busy, and I thought you'd want to unwind. It's a stupid idea, I'm sorry."

"No!" Bucky bursts out before Tony can say anything out, cringing inwardly a moment later. "No, I think it's cool. Very relaxing. And nice. I want to spend more time with you too."

"Oh." It's clear from the expression on Tony's face that he'd been expecting rejection...or worse. "Okay."

They settle down on the bean bags near the roof in silence, and Tony's shifting around, crunching the grains beneath him, when Bucky frowns. "Mr. Yinsen let you up here when there aren't any guardrails? Couldn't that lead to a lawsuit if one of us fell off?" Not going to lie, Bucky has a fear about falling. There's something about it—that easy slip—that frightens him more than anything else.

"Oh," Tony says with a faint smile. "I forgot to tell you." He slips a rubber band off his wrist and slingshots it at the sky in front of them. However, instead of plummeting past the edge of the roof, it rebounds instead, and for a second, there's a slight glimmer where it had impacted the seemingly empty air. "Yinsen and I, we've been developing this, uh, this force field of sorts. It's basically an ionospheric field that operates by coherent graviton emission. I mean, it's not perfect, I'm not really well-versed in vector current manipulation, and Yinsen works a lot and doesn't really have time to correct everything I do wrong, but we should be safe. No falling." His smile shifts to self-deprecating. "I like heights, don't get me wrong, but I, uh, I don't really like the idea of falling."

Bucky snorts. "Yeah. Me neither."

In the horizon, which they've got a perfect view of, the sky is flooding a deep fiery orange and gold is glimmering through the gaps in the clouds. It looks like what heaven would be, if it existed. At the edge of the horizon, the sun burns a fierce, vivid red, like a drop of blood.

Bucky chances a glance at Tony, and the way the waning sun hits the other boy's face, turning his skin a golden color and his eyes molten honey, steals Bucky's breath away. Tony is so  _ beautiful  _ in this moment, eyes locked onto the setting sun, lips slightly parted and red from the sweet syrup of the soda. The way his slender fingers curl around the glass neck of the bottle. The way his eyelashes turn so fine and golden-brown, the long lengths of them illuminated in the orange light. 

The want hits him like a freight train.

"Where'd you get the soda?" Bucky says to distract himself, as well as to distract certain, more primal, parts of his body. "Haven't seen it in years."

Tony shrugs, turning to him with a soft grin. "Knew you liked it," he says simply. "So I found it."

For a second, Bucky forgets himself. It almost feels like he's sitting across from the boy he's in love with and that boy's in love with him  _ back.  _ He could cross the space between them right now, wrap a hand around the back of Tony's neck, draw him in slowly. They'd both taste like grape-cherry, which shouldn't be such a good combination but it is, and Tony would look at him with nothing but love in his eyes.

"This is actually a lot nicer than I expected," Tony says. "Maybe next time we can bring the whole group up here, have a party."

Bucky snaps back to the present at those words.  _ Whole group.  _ Yeah, who was he kidding, it's not like Tony would do anything private for him, just him. Tony would try to make  _ everyone  _ happy, because that's the way Tony is—tries to make people happy. Bucky's no special snowflake. It's not like this single sunset on this roof belongs to him.

"Good idea," he replies, but his voice sounds faint, even to his own ears. He clears his throat, tries again. "That's...yeah. We could invite all of them. Stevie'd have a heart attack."

"Stevie," Tony repeats. An unrecognizable emotion flashes across his face. "Yeah, Steve really would."

Something imperceptible has changed in their dynamic in the last few minutes, but Bucky can't put his finger on it. He knows something's changed though, somehow, can feel it; but maybe it's just him. Maybe he's imagining things. Maybe it's because of how unbalanced the universe is—he's stupid in love with Tony, and Tony doesn't love him back.

They sit in relative silence until the sun disappears completely beneath the horizon and the sky shades over with black. Tony's stretched himself out over the bean bag in the meantime, his head tipped back. Bucky can't tell if his eyes are closed or not.

"That right there," Tony says all of a sudden, "is Cassiopeia."

"They all look the same to me." Bucky tilts his face up toward the sky. He doesn't get how in the hell he's supposed to see an image written in the stars there. SHIELD's fairly isolated, located in the fringe of New York where actual woods exist and it's darker at night, but still—there are so many clusters of stars and they're all damn near identical.

"C'mere," Tony beckons to him, shifting over on the bean bag to make more space. He tugs Bucky in close and points upward, at some random ass grouping of stars that Bucky honestly couldn't give less of a shit about considering he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Tony and that's making his heart pound far harder than any constellation ever could.

"Do you see that?" Tony's breath is warming the shell of his ear. Bucky's afraid to turn his head for fear that Tony will realize the intimacy of their positions and run away.

"Uh—that?" He points randomly in the general direction of Tony's outstretched finger.

"Here." Tony gently guides his wrist to the right a little until he's supposedly pointing at the correct constellation. "Caph, Shedir, Tsih, Ruchbah, Segin. They're supposed to make up Cassiopeia's shape—her body. From ankle to knee to to hip to breast to armpit."

"Who is she?" Bucky says hoarsely. He clears his throat. "Cassiopeia?"

Tony draws away so he can prop himself up on one elbow and face Bucky in the darkness. "She's named after the queen Cassiopeia in Greek mythology. She always boasted about how beautiful she was. And it was true—her beauty was unrivaled. But her vanity was her downfall." 

Tony looks up at the sky, almost thoughtful, and the starlight makes his eyes bright.

"One day, she claimed that she was more beautiful than the Nereids, these nymphs that lived in the sea. They were angered and appealed to Poseidon for a fitting form of punishment. Poseidon, the god of the sea, obliged, in part because he was wed to one of the nymphs. He sent the sea monster Cetus—also a constellation—to ravage Cassiopeia's husband's kingdom. King Cepheus, her husband, went to an oracle for help, and he was told that they would have to sacrifice their daughter Andromeda to the sea monster in order to save their kingdom."

"That's pretty awful," Bucky comments, and Tony gives him a half-grin.

"Yeah. Pretty bad. But luckily, Andromeda was saved by the Greek hero Perseus. In the end, Poseidon ended up punishing Cassiopeia by condemning her to circle the celestial pole of the heavens forever. She has to spend half the year upside down in the sky because of her vanity."

"Well, one person's upside down is another person's right side up," Bucky quips, and Tony's grin broadens to a real one. 

"You got it in one, C-3PO." He flops over onto his stomach and turns his head on the crook of his elbow to watch Bucky. "You ever think about being someone's right side up?" He smirks a little, even though strangely, his eyes look sad. "A little birdie told me you have a crush, and honestly, Buckaroo, I'm a little hurt that you told  _ Clint  _ before  _ me." _

"Yeah, well, Clint's not gonna be a very happy birdie for long." Bucky can't look Tony in the eyes right now. He's afraid the other boy will see something he doesn't mean to reveal. "There's someone, but it doesn't matter." 

"Who's this 'someone'?" Tony says with interest. "Is she someone I know? I can probably hook you up if you need the help. You deserve to be happy, Bucky."

_ Isn't that ironic.  _ Bucky snorts quietly. "A 'he', actually. And he's too good for me."

"No such thing," Tony pronounces, "as someone who's too good for you. I mean, have you seen yourself? You've got muscles in your muscles. And you're funny, and sweet. Who wouldn't want you?"

_ You,  _ Bucky thinks. "Just…" He shakes his head. "Everyone keeps askin' me about it. It isn't serious, and I don't wanna talk about it."

Tony peers closer at Bucky's face, and his face changes. "Okay," he says softly. "Won't push if you don't like it. But...we all just want you to be happy, yeah? If I know him, I can help you. There's no way this guy—whomever he is—could reject you if he got to know you."

"Yeah," Bucky says roughly, looking away. "Thanks, Tony."

Tony nods. "It's getting a little chilly out. You want to head back in? We can leave the stuff up here for now. No one else is gonna come up here except for me."

"Yeah, sure," Bucky says, forcing down the sharp longing that cuts through him as Tony burrows deeper into his thick sweater. "For the record, this was the best half-birthday I've ever had."

Tony just blushes. "God, I sure hope so. Since I'm pretty sure this was your first one."

Bucky swigs the last of his grape cherry as Tony does the same, and then they head over to the door. 

"Next time, we can all hang out up here if I get Yinsen's permission," Tony promises. He has to look up to make eye contact with Bucky.

"Sure thing," Bucky answers, and moves to go, and pretends like he's not trying to memorize Tony's face in the here and now in the dim yellow light of the stairway.

There are a lotta ways Bucky's seen Tony. He's seen Tony when he's sleepy and stumbly and his hair's all fluffed up, his eyes too big and vulnerable. When he's in an inventing mood, and he's hammering out his ideas in the Engineering basement where Yinsen allows him his own workshop, and he's dressed in some skimpy tank top and he's flushed and sweaty and  _ strong.  _ When he's reading or studying and he's wearing those glasses, nibbling on the eraser tip of his pencil, bundled in a coat or a sweater with books in his arms. When he's dressed to face the cutthroat crowds of reporters and SI businessmen too, looking every inch the son of Howard Stark in a suit cut exactly to his proportions with a blood-red tie looped around his neck. But there's one way Bucky's never seen Tony until now, and it's this—dressed in a dripping wet shirt, rain cutting strips down his cheeks and throat, and absolutely  _ drenched.  _

"Oh, my God," Steve says immediately, getting up to help Tony through the entranceway and into the dorm living room, where the rest of their friends are sat gaping on the couches. Steve drags him over to the fireplace firmly and forces Tony to sit and dry off in front of the blazing heat. "Tony, what were you doing outside?"

Tony gives a sloppy pat to Steve's shoulder. Based on the way Steve flinches and shivers, Tony's fingers are ice cold. "Was 'gineerin'. Forgot there w's s'posed to be a storm today. Ran here."

Steve sighs and shakes his head. "Without an umbrella? Or a jacket? Or...you know...calling one of us to come get you?"

"Didn' wanna impose," Tony huffs into his arms.

"You absolute idiot," Natasha says, but even she can't restrain the fondness from slipping into her voice. "You're going to get a cold,  _ kotenok." _

"'M not a cabbage."

"That's not what  _ kotenok  _ means, doll," Bucky informs him as he plops down next to Tony. "You need to go change clothes before you catch a cold like Natasha said."

"Don' wanna walk up three flights of stairs right now." Tony gives his wet clothing a dirty look. 

"How about Bucky goes with you to change?" Bruce suggests in his mild-mannered way with a shrug. "Incentive."

Bucky frowns, wondering what in the hell that's supposed to mean, but Tony just lets out a cute little growl that sounds more like a mewl. "You guys are all assholes. Don't think I'm deceived by those innocent faces you put on."

"Sure, Tony," says Bruce placidly.

"Okay, Terminator, let's go," Tony says. The warm firelight makes his cheeks look red. 

The stairwells are frigid when they enter, and Bucky's hands go to his jacket—seeing Tony shiver, about to strip it off—only to realize he's dressed in a long sleeve shirt and no outerwear. "Here," he says faux-casually, trying to ignore the odd flutter in his chest, "Don't want you catchin' pneumonia." He steps close to Tony and wraps an arm around the shorter boy's shoulders, pulling him in to his side. "Better?"

"Y-yeah." Tony sounds oddly shaky, which Bucky chalks up to the low temperature and Tony's soaked clothes.

Up in the dorm room, Tony shakes his wet curls out of his eyes and grins at Bucky. He looks looser now, more relaxed, and Bucky is suddenly aware of the way the air seems to be closing in around them and how they're standing, face-to-face and alone in the room.

"Jesus it's cold." Without warning, Tony strips his shirt off and toes off his shoes and socks. He goes to undo his belt and his jeans slip low on his hips, revealing a trail of sparse dark hair that disappears under the waistband of his boxers. Tony's not muscular, not in the way Thor or Steve or Bucky is. But his time in the shop and his natural runner's build have made him lean and toned. It doesn't help that his skin is still damp from the rain either; he's just the right side of slick that makes Bucky's mouth go desert-dry as he tells himself to stop ogling. 

"Might need to turn around now, Buckaroo," Tony says with a wry quirk of the mouth. "I need to change my underwear, and, well…" He gestures with a hand.

"Yeah," Bucky rasps. He jerks his gaze away with the kind of force that would topple an elephant. "You do that."

When he turns around again, Tony's dressed in pajama pants and an oversized crewneck. Dear God, Bucky's right arm is going numb—either he's going to need another prosthetic soon, or he's about to have a heart attack. Tony's hair is slowly drying but it's still damp enough to retain an unusually dark color, and it's smoothed out over his forehead instead of fluffing up in curls like normal.

"Like what you see?" Tony says, grinning at him, and Bucky can tell from the tone of Tony's voice that he's joking and  _ really  _ doesn't know how spot-on he is.

Bucky chooses to ignore him. "Feel better now?"

"Uh huh." Tony tugs at the wide collar of the crewneck so that it hangs around where his collarbones are and perks up. "I finally finished the coding for that AI I was talking about. I haven't installed him in the body I built yet, though. And the body's more of an arm, really—he's just meant to be a helper bot. It's not that cool. But I wanted someone to help me around the shop more, get me tools and stuff—just a stupid idea, I know, I know, but—"

"Can I see him? When you're done with him?"

Tony stutters to a stop. "Uh, what?"

"I want to meet him," Bucky says gently. "He sounds wonderful, doll. I'd like t' come visit when I have the chance."

"Well, he's only a helper bot…," Tony says slowly. "It's not like he'll be able to have a conversation. I mean, he's a learning AI, but he's not very advanced. You won't be impressed."

Bucky just snorts. "I was impressed when you first started talking. Creating an  _ artificial intelligence?  _ That's so amazing on so many levels, regardless of whether it can fuckin' talk in English or not. Do you realize how smart and—and how  _ brilliant  _ you are? Because I don't think you do. Jesus, it thrills me to think about how you're gonna do so many great things. An' it pisses me off how you don't realize that, because even Justin Hammer's got more confidence in himself than you do and he's...he's like a  _ rodent,  _ Tony, God."

Tony's wide-eyed, his cheeks tipped with pink as he stares up at Bucky. Too late does Bucky realize the spiel he's gone off on and he swallows hard, trying to save face. "As your friend, it's pretty much my duty to remind you that you're worth far more than you think you are, y'know."

"Yeah," Tony says quietly, his eyes still wide. "Yeah. Friends, it's just what friends are supposed to do—of course, yeah. I mean, you can totally meet him. He doesn't have a name yet, but, um, maybe you can help me decide?"

Bucky nods. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he says without really paying attention to what's coming out of his mouth, focused instead on gathering more blankets from the room to bring downstairs. He hears Tony squeak but ignores it—Tony's kind of always like that, and he finds it more cute than he probably should.

They head back downstairs, Bucky with an armful of blankets, Tony shuffling beside him with bare feet and his pajama pants trapped under his heels. 

For his part, Bucky tries to ignore the feelings inside him as best he can. It'll do no one any good if he oversteps his boundaries and makes Tony run away. And he tells himself that that was all for the better two weeks later, when he finds out that Tony's heart has always belonged to someone else.

=o=

Bucky finds out when he overhears Tony talking to Natasha.

There's a note of desperation in Tony's voice, something hopeless that  _ yanks  _ at Bucky's heart, unspooling himself from the inside. He steps closer, about to walk into the empty lab and ask what's wrong, when Tony continues, "I just—God, Nat, I love him so much, I don't know what to do about it."

Natasha's voice is soothing. "Do you trust me, Tony?"

"Well, yeah—you're Natasha."

Bucky can hear the smile in her voice as she replies. "Then trust me on this—he watches you whenever we're all together. He only has eyes for you. He's just as gone as you as you are on him,  _ Antoshka." _

Tony laughs; it's a bitter, ugly thing that rips at Bucky's heart nearly as much as the dawning horror of learning that Tony already loves someone else. "He's too good for me. I'd just bring him down."

"Regardless of whether that's true or not, which it is not," Natasha says pointedly, "don't you think it's up to him to decide whether or not he wants to be with you?"

Tony sighs. "He's not good at taking care of himself."

"Yes,  _ kotenok, _ and neither are you."

Bucky wants to rip himself away from the door and leave—he's definitely heard enough—but something, maybe his weird masochistic tendencies, compels him to stay. 

"Even if—even if he liked me back, I'd just screw up our relationship and then he wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore. And I don't think I'd be able to handle losing him, Nat. I can't."

"How would you screw up the relationship?" Natasha asks gently.

"Because I'm bad at feelings, I spend too much time down in the shop, I only know how to interact with people when I'm pitching an idea or schmoozing with Dad's partners. He'd get sick of me if he hasn't already."

Bucky clenches his fists. Whoever is the object of Tony's attention clearly doesn't deserve to be. Quite frankly, they sound like an utter asshole.

"He loves you, but if he hurts you, an arm won't be the only—"

A door slams loudly behind Bucky and he jumps. He jerks around to find Steve glaring at him and his eyes dart to the doorway, expecting Tony and Natasha to come peering round the corner at any second. Luckily, after a long, drawn-out pause, their voices start up again.

Steve grabs him bodily by the arm and drags him down the hallway. "Hey, Stevie, easy," Bucky complains, but there's no heat behind the words. He knows he's in trouble.

"I can't believe you, really, Buck," Steve hisses as soon as they're far out of earshot. "Eavesdropping? That's just—just—"

"I didn't  _ mean  _ to," Bucky protests. "I was just walking down the hall to pick up my jacket, which I still  _ need,  _ by the way, and I heard Tony's voice."

Steve's eyes soften a smidgen. "Okay, I'm not mad," he concedes, "but Buck, you've got to stop hurting yourself like this. Just  _ talk  _ to him."

"You know why I can't," Bucky says back softly. He looks away. "And Tony's in love with someone else."

_ "What?"  _ Steve sputters. He spins around to face Bucky, his blue eyes wide.  _ "Who?" _

"I don't know," Bucky mutters, hot shame welling up inside him. "But I heard him and Nat talking about this guy who sounds like a complete  _ asshole." _

Throughout his response, Steve's face has been relaxing into something almost like amusement. "Really? An asshole? Why's that?"

Bucky just shakes his head and glares off into middle distance. "He clearly has no appreciation, attention, or time for Tony."

Steve hums.

"I'd be so much better for him than that dick," Bucky adds petulantly. 

"Well," Steve says, his mouth trembling and jaw tight like he's trying to hold back a laugh. It's  _ infuriating.  _ "Let me know how that works out."

"Whatever, punk."

"Jerk."

They head out the doors of the hallway, shoving at each other, and for now, all thoughts of Tony and his asshole beau settle to fester in the back of Bucky's mind. 

On Monday at noon, Bucky walks into the cafeteria to find their normal table and finds Tony's lap occupied by a grinning Clint Barton.

Tony looks to be half-asleep, his eyes half-lidded and his hair matted one one side. Clint's sitting so that he's got a leg thrown over Tony's lap, his arms looped around the smaller boy's shoulders.

Bucky inhales and exhales deeply.  _ Now is  _ not _ the time to get all green-eyed with jealousy, Barnes, stop being a fuckin' idiot,  _ he tells himself.

Upon spotting him, Clint's grins just broadens. He weaves his fingers into Tony's hair, massaging the skull gently, and Tony pitches forward and moans into the crook of Clint's neck. Between one blink and the next, Bucky's vision goes white, and he slams himself down onto the bench harder than he means to.

Immediately, Tony's head jerks up, and a happy smile blooms on his face as he catches sight of Bucky sitting next to him. "Buckaroo!"

"Hey, doll," Bucky returns, narrowing his eyes at Clint's idiotically goofy smile over Tony's head. "'Sup, Clit."

"Hiya Fucky," Clint replies cheerfully, his hands never straying from where they're massaging the back of Tony's head. "Feel good, Tones?"

"Mmm. Very."

"I could do it better," Bucky grumbles, but surprisingly, Clint just laughs and moves off of Tony's lap. "Be my guest, Barnes."

"I don't care who gives me a massage, but I want a massage," Tony says, his voice muffled where he's buried his face into his arms on the table.

Bucky sighs and scoots over. Gently he reaches for Tony's scalp and kneads it with his fingers in circles, making sure to put pressure on all parts of Tony's head. He can smell fresh cool coconut shampoo and he has to take a deep breath to stop his fingers from trembling before he continues to move his hands over Tony's head.

"Mm," Tony sighs into the pillow he's made with his arms on the table. "Don' stop, Bucky Sprout. Head hurts."

Wisely deciding to ignore  _ Bucky Sprout,  _ Bucky instead chooses to focus on the more concerning matter at hand. Pausing his motions on Tony's scalp, he asks suspiciously, "Why does your head hurt?"

The other boy snuffles into his arms and squints blearily out of his arm-cave, frowning. "Haven't slept in ages. Forgot to eat. Hmmm, also hit m' head on the und'side of my bed while looking for an old sock but I don' think that's why."

"You need to take better care of yourself," Bucky chastises.  _ I could take care of you. _

"Hmph," Tony murmurs. "Gotta get things done."

"Fine, but you can't complain if I start bringing food down to the lab," Bucky replies lightly. "Maybe I'll move a couch in there."

"Hello,  _ kotenok,"  _ Natasha says from behind them, fluidly slipping onto the empty seat next to Tony and running a light finger over the back of his neck.

"Ooh, cool hands," Tony mumbles. "Like."

"I bet you do," Natasha says, smiling indulgently. She begins to scratch at the back of Tony's neck and he honest-to-god  _ purrs,  _ which would've been so much more attractive except Tony didn't purr for Bucky at all, not even during the scalp massage. 

"He's not a kitten, he's a human being," Bucky says.

"Oh, so not cabbage," Tony says blearily. He peeks up at Bucky's scowl. "Buckaroo, 's okay. No one's attackin' me."

"Well," Bucky says. "Yeah. I know that."

Natasha raises one slim dark eyebrow at him.

"So who's ready to go to Stevie's football game tomorrow?" Clint says, dragging the conversation back into shallower waters. "Captain Rogers has a ring to it, huh?"

"Captain America," Tony adds, throwing in the familiar nickname that they created for Steve last year, when Coach Erskine had the horrible idea to change the school's football colors to red, white, and blue. They eventually returned to SHIELD's signature grey, pale blue, and black, but Steve's been stuck with the nickname ever since.

"An' Peggy's gonna be there of course, huh?" Bucky says, elbowing his best friend with a smirk. "Excited?"

Steve blushes and ducks his head. "She'll be there."

"Thanos is gonna be there too," Sam, one of the team's linebackers, grumbles from where he's situated next to Steve. "We better kick that douche's ass."

"Don't worry," Tony pipes up, his eyes peeping over the line of his arm. He looks like a sleepy duckling. "We're the  _ Avengers.  _ HYDRA Academy and their stupid  _ Infinity Stones  _ football team has nothing on you, Steve."

"And Sam," Sam says.

"Sure, whatever, you too, Wilson," Tony says, but he's grinning.

"What's up with that stupid name anyway?" Sam asks. "Couldn't they at least have gone with something generic, like wolves? Or—hey—even hydras themselves."

Bucky feels Tony tense under his hands, and when the other boy looks up, his eyes are dark. "Tiberius Stone," he says faux-flippantly. "Uh. My ex. His dad sponsors the entire team, so. Advertisement of the family name, and all that."

Bucky clears his throat to draw some of the attention to himself. "You know him, Sam," he says casually. "The one tall player with the greasy hair and the smarmy smile?"

_ "Oh,"  _ Sam exclaims, catching on quickly. "Yeah. With the sharp cheekbones and waxy skin. Good lookin' on the outside but his inside's just one whole lot of slimy bastard."

Steve clearly hasn't spotted the tension lining every part of Tony's expression, because he sighs and interrupts Sam with, "No matter how awful the other team is, I'd rather not insult them before we play them. We could jinx the game."

"Eh." Bucky shrugs, lightly tracing a finger down the back of Tony's neck. "There are God-given exceptions for assholes." 

Suddenly, Tony jerks up. There are two spots of pink high on his cheeks and his eyes are wide. "Um—"

"You good, Tones?" Clint chuckles.

"Yeah, no, yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be—um—good?" Tony stiffly maneuvers off of Bucky's lap so that he's sitting on the bench instead, and Bucky tries to tamp down the sudden flash of hurt. 

"You sure?" Clint slides a hand up Tony's shoulder and traces a circle on his exposed neck, like Clint's not already super into Natasha or anything and is kind of just being a dick, and Bucky's teeth grind so hard that his skull rattles.

Tony squirms under Clint's hand and slaps it away, shooting a venomous glare at the archer. "Fuck off, Farton."

"Sure thing, North Sea Texas," Clint replies easily. 

Bucky's brow furrows—he's got no idea what that reference means—but before he can ask about it, Tony huffs and stands up from the table. "I'm leaving," he announces to the air above everyone's heads, and then stomps off in a rush.

Natasha smacks Clint over the head. "Really?"

"Okay, okay," Clint says, looking properly chastised. "I didn't think he'd take it to heart."

"I mean, considering that it's got to do  _ with  _ his heart," Bruce says, which doesn't sound confusing or suspicious to Bucky at all.

Thor folds his arms across his large chest. Jane's on a research trip in France, so he's at their table today. "This could be easily fixed if our friends vowed to communicate openly with each other. I suggest an intervention, for it pains me to see them act so."

"What's goin' on," Bucky says.

"Nothing, Buck!" Steve answers. The blond stands with his tray, a fake sheepish smile on his face. "I'm going to go, uh, see Peggy. She's reviewing for her debate tournament right now and I think maybe I'll just...go and help."

Steve flees the table without another word.

"Alright," Bucky mutters, scowling. For a moment he hopes fervently that Tony will come back, but his crush has most likely gone to hide out in the basement labs. "Everyone's apparently crazy today."

Clint groans. "I'll tell you what's really crazy," he begins. "What's really crazy is that you haven't told—" His words peter off into an uncharacteristic squeal as Natasha's arm makes a jerking motion from above the table.

Bucky shakes his head. "I'm gonna go," he says. "Back to the dorms. Kinda tired."

"You sure it's not because someone  _ special  _ is missing?" Clint calls after him, and Bucky flips him the bird behind his back as he stalks away. Clearly it's Clint's stupid humor running away with him again. Clearly Bucky's not being one of those weird lovelorn fools who only stay when the people they're desperately, tragically, overwhelmingly in love with do too.

Clearly, Bucky's not in love with Tony Stark or Tony's stupidly beautiful brown eyes or dark hair or delighted smile or quick hands or his genius or his kindness, his generosity, his caring, his attention to detail, his selflessness, his humor, his shyness, his tendency to ramble, his sharpness, his sarcasm, his focus, his dreams for the future.

Obviously not.

=o=

It's the perfect afternoon for a football game. The sky is clear blue with a few fluffy white clouds scattered throughout, and the weather is cool without being overwhelmingly chilly. Bucky and the rest of his friend group have striped their cheeks with grey and pale blue, and they've got banners and signs that scream Steve's and Sam's names. 

Tony's eyes are so bright and his smile so gleeful that Bucky can't help but watch him fondly, even though his left arm aches with the memory of throwing footballs, receiving them, the satisfying  _ oomph  _ as it hits his chest and he cradles it to himself and breaks down the line,  _ touchdown! _

He'd lost the dream to play in college along with the car accident that took both his parents and his arm freshman year. For a year and a half, he hadn't done anything but drift along in school, mindless, aimless, as if he were getting brainwashed over and over and over again, something from beyond tugging his soul out of his body and locking it somewhere he couldn't find. But Sarah Rogers—Steve's mom—and Steve himself had helped tremendously, and then Tony had transferred in, and then. Well. Suddenly things weren't so terrible anymore. 

Bucky studies the small happy face Tony had painted onto the thumb pad of his finger where the friction ridges of a normal finger should be, remembering the intense concentration on the genius's face as he traced the delicate curve of a yellow smile on Bucky's hand. Tony makes things...more, somehow. More uncomplicated, more okay, more easy to breathe.

"Ready to cheer on our Cap'n, Tastee Freez?" Tony says breathlessly from beside him, beaming brightly as he waves his banner from the stands. As someone so heavily deprived from social interaction as he had been at home, Tony jumps on everything social here at SHIELD while still managing to be the most soft and shy person Bucky's ever met.

"Sure thing, sweet thing," Bucky says, the reply coming naturally to him easy as honey. A second later, he realizes what he's said and blushes a furious red, but Tony doesn't seem to notice, his eyes locked instead on a familiar blond figure jogging out onto center field.

"Go, Steve!!" Tony whoops. "That's my Captain America!"

Natasha snorts from beside Bucky, rapping her knuckles on his padded metal shoulder. "Is he still that loud in bed?"

Bucky promptly chokes on his soda.

After eager anticipation from the audience and the announcement of each player from SHIELD's home team, the match begins. Tony scoots closer to Bucky on the bench, his body a tantalizing warmth tucked snugly into Bucky's side as he watches anxiously. The  _ Avengers  _ open up neatly with an impressive touchdown drive, but the  _ Stones  _ lead up with a good kickoff return and number 13, Johann Schmidt, lands a huge horse-collar tackle on Sam in order to allow Arnim Zola a free sprint into the endzone. Steve comes back with a potential pick-six to Scott Lang, but Scott, closely tailed by Darren Cross, fumbles the ball. While the  _ Avengers  _ hold off alright against the brutal  _ Stones _ , they're still not playing as well as they normally do, caught up by mediocre pass-catching and ball drops. By halftime, the  _ Avengers  _ are down an agonizing 17 points and the  _ Stones  _ are getting cocky, jostling each other and snickering at the team across the field. Most prominent among them is Thanos, number 69 and a massive, hulking player. He snaps his fingers high in the air, his signature gesture of victory, and Tony hisses from beside Bucky, recoiling further into Bucky's side.

Quite frankly, Thanos can do that stupid snap all he wants if it means Tony shifting closer.

During the third quarter, Steve launches a beautiful ball downfield to their insanely fast wide receiver, Pietro Maximoff, who snags it out of the air and rushes a hundred feet for a carry to land a beautiful touchdown that sends the audience wild. Von Strucker takes the ball wide and hauls it over the fifty yard line in an effort to get it to Thanos, but Sam intercepts the offensive pass neatly. After ten minutes, Steve grabs the ball from one end of the field and somehow powers past eight of the eleven  _ Stones  _ players, making it a good eighty yards before he crosses the line and allows himself one satisfactory fist pump in the air as he flicks the sweat from his hair. 

After a lovely field goal by Sam, the  _ Avengers  _ are only down ten points, a quickly narrowing 28-38. The ref calls the end of the quarter, and Bucky watches as Steve gathers their team in a huddle, his face looking serious and tense as he speaks about something—knowing Steve, it's probably one of those morale speeches, the ones that go like this: "We're down, guys, but it doesn't mean we're losing. Who are we playing for? We're not just playing for ourselves." 

"Rogers is rather good at that," Bucky hears from behind him. It's Rocket, the slightly-manic "lab rat" (as Tony likes to call him) who spends most of his time with Peter Quill's gang. "Y'know. That whole 'inspiration' shtick."

The ref calls for both teams to come back onto the field and this time, the  _ Avengers  _ move with a renewed sense of determination that's clear to see in their squared shoulders and lifted chins. Bucky can feel a new energy move through the crowd like a high.

The  _ Stones  _ don't even stand a chance this quarter. Maximoff lands a touchdown and another run for eight points, taking the  _ Avengers  _ up to 36, only 2 points below the  _ Stones.  _ Steve's stuck at a single touchdown for this game unfortunately, due to his position as a quarterback, but Pietro takes it again for his sixth touchdown of the game and Sam gets in a couple nice passes with Lang. 

With thirty seconds left in the game, the  _ Avengers  _ and the  _ Stones  _ are neck-and-neck at 42 points. Tiberius Stone, who has done virtually nothing this entire game in favor of screaming at his teammates, is red-faced and frothing at the mouth, his shiny expensive shoulder pads gleaming under the waning sunlight.

"C'mon Stevie," Bucky finds himself whispering. His metal fist clenches as he sees Helmut Zemo jogging down the field to whisper something in Stone's ear.

Suddenly, Steve and Lang switch positions. Bucky frowns, leaning forward to see why the hell Steve, their best quarterback, is suddenly hustling down the line. Clearly the  _ Stones  _ are also confused by the weird change in lineup with twenty seconds to go—and then Bucky realizes, a few seconds ahead of the opposing team, that Scott's just the distraction. 

Maximoff takes the ball and guns eighteen yards down before lobbying it straight to Steve, who leaps into the air to catch it and dekes Stone so cleanly that Stone tackles Zemo instead. Shouting obscenities, Stone hauls himself up, but the damage has been done. Steve's already yards away.

Steve's near the touchdown line when Thanos comes running in. He's  _ enormous,  _ this one great muscle of more man than boy, and Bucky tenses, absentmindedly rubbing his throbbing left shoulder. As if Tony can subconsciously sense his apprehension despite his intense focus on the game, he tucks in closer, tracing a circle on Bucky's knee.

Steve sees Thanos coming, but he keeps running full-speed, head down, shoulders up, neck locked. Thanos leaps into the air, arms encircling Steve's waist, and Steve falls—but he falls forward, hands outstretched with the ball in them, closing it tight to his chest and cradling it as he twists midair and lands with a soundless grunt on his back on the other end of the line.

"Touchdown," Bucky breathes.

"We  _ won!"  _ Tony crows. "Eat  _ that,  _ assholes!"

The next twenty minutes pass in a blur. They stampede down the bleachers to go meet Steve, who's flushed and sweaty but beaming proudly on the field. His helmet is propped up on his hip and Peggy's come down from the stands for him, her face full of proud adoration. They share a chaste but loving kiss.

"You guys did so well," Tony says, coming closer to give Steve and Sam hugs. "We beat them!"

"We really did," Sam says, shaking his head and grinning. "Thanks to Cap right here."

Steve blushes and ducks his head. "Aw, nah, football's a team sport."

There's a bit of commotion as Natasha turns sharply, her eyes zeroed in on a hulking figure jogging across the field. "Why's Thanos coming over here," she says flatly. 

"He had better not start any trouble with my team," Thor says, face fierce. Thor is technically on the  _ Avengers  _ team, but he's been out because of a few broken ribs during a tussle with Surtur, a so-called "family friend."

Bucky's arm twitches as Thanos makes a beeline straight for Tony, who looks vulnerable and small in the face of the six-foot-five giant of a  _ Stones  _ player. He wants to step in front of Tony, face Thanos himself, but it would be stupid and offensive to pretend like Tony can't hold his own. 

"Stark," Thanos says, slowing to a stop. Bucky's eyes rove over his large cleft chin and beady eyes and keeps both fists clenched tight.

"Thanos," Tony says. He subtly shifts position—arms crossed, chin up—looking every bit as strong as Bucky knows he is, and Bucky has never loved him more than in this moment.

Thanos's eyes soften a bit, but Bucky isn't fooled. This guy is slippery. Not to mention, a huge supporter of authoritarian communism.

"We lost," Thanos says.

"I can see that."

Thanos reaches out, placing one large hand on the side of Tony's face. Tony's eyes go wide, but before he can say anything else, Thanos steps forward and dips his head down to brush his lips against Tony's.

For a second Tony just stands there, eyes still open and unblinking, clearly in shock. Thanos surges into the kiss as he sucks at Tony's lower lip, gripping both sides of Tony's face with his large hands.

Bucky's vision goes white.

In one moment, Thanos is kissing Tony (Tony is  _ not  _ kissing back, his mind reassures him), and in the next, Bucky has shoved him back so hard that he's stumbling. "Hey," Bucky barks. Every part of his body is ice. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Thanos blinks at him, and then a slow smile spreads over his face. "Ah. Barnes. Jealous?"

"Shut the hell up and get away from him," Bucky grits out, metal arm cocked and ready to slug the smarmy bastard in the face. "Get the hell away from him, creep."

"I have come for what I needed," Thanos says, shrugging and turning away. "But Stark… You and I are more similar than you think."

"Jesus," Bucky says in disgust as he watches Thanos's hulking back recede into the distance. "What a creep."

"Y—yeah," Tony says faintly, still wide-eyed. His eyes flicker to somewhere below Bucky's eyes for a second and then he swallows, hard. "Yeah. Um. Wow, you...that was… I mean, yes, creep."

"I'm serious, doll," Bucky says, shaking his head. It feels like there's only him and Tony in this moment, and something in his gut is driving him to  _ make Tony understand  _ that he deserves so, so,  _ SO  _ much better than a creep like Thanos. "You deserve someone who loves you. Not like that one asshole you and Tasha were talkin' about in the history building. You deserve someone who loves every part of you—who knows you. Someone who'd get you the coffee you need in the mornin', black and nothin' else because you've desensitized all your taste buds, someone who knows that your favorite colors aren't actually red an' gold but blue-grey like a winter storm, someone who likes it when you talk about your bots or your inventions and knows you like mismatched socks and that your favorite fruit is blueberries and that you like sunrises over sunsets, and that you wanted to be an astronaut when you were younger because you wanted to talk to the stars, someone who sees your humor and your kindness and your generosity and how much you care for other people and don't expect anythin' in return, someone who knows you like wearin' things oversized, someone who's smart enough to appreciate you for who you are."

Tony stares, and Bucky realizes that everyone's grown silent.

"Ooookay," Clint says. "We're just gonna, you know, go now. And, uh, leave you two alone."

Everyone departs, leaving Tony gaping at Bucky on the sidelines.

"Oh, shit," Bucky says, backing up. Tony hasn't said anything, and it's dawning on him all of a sudden how  _ badly  _ he's just fucked everything up. "'M sorry, shit, shit, shit, shit,  _ shit—" _

Tony closes his eyes and says tightly, quietly, "Please tell me if I'm wrong. Don't let me continue if I—if I've got this wrong, but…" He takes a breath. "My favorite color is blue-grey because that's the color of your eyes, and everything that color reminds me of you."

Bucky blinks. And blinks again. 

"And you deserve someone better than me," Tony's saying, "but you deserve someone who knows you love the color red, and that you like sunsets more than sunrises, and that you wanted to be a fishmonger or a grocer when you grew up, and that you secretly think fuzzy socks are cute, and you like wearing hoodies because then you can pull the hood up when you're feeling vulnerable." He opens his eyes, and Bucky's hit by the wealth of emotion hidden in those honey-brown depths.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, because I don't think I could…" Tony trails off. "What are you trying to tell me, Bucky?"

Bucky's voice rasps on the next word out. "I'm in love with you. Have been for a while now. Uh."

"Okay," Tony says, and blinks fast, once. "Okay. That's good, because, um, I'm in love with you too."

And then they're both stepping forward, hesitantly at first, and then Tony's looking up into his face with that beautiful gaze and Bucky's mouth is on his, clumsy and warm, his metal hand fisting into Tony's hair.

Tony lets out a little noise akin to a squeak that has Bucky laughing against his mouth and Tony huffing in return. 

"Y' taste like soda," Tony mumbles into him.

Bucky kisses him on the nose. "You taste like sugar, sweet thing."

"God,  _ finally,"  _ Clint hollers from behind them, and Bucky turns to see Clint taking pictures from the side with Natasha, Bruce, Steve, and Thor gathered behind him. He gives them a thumbs-up and then raises the camera to snap another shot. "Real cute, guys! How about another kiss?"

Bucky flips their friends off as Tony blushes and buries his face into Bucky's chest. "We'll talk more later," Bucky promises into the crown of Tony's hair. "Because there are definitely things...hmm...that we need to go over… But for now…"

"Yes," Tony says quickly. "Um. Car. Your car? Yes. Now."

Bucky chuckles, wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders. "I feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

Tony peers up at him, a faint frown on his face like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Really?"

"Of course." Bucky loops an arm around Tony's waist, since he can do that now. "Why wouldn't I be? You're beautiful, kind, caring, goofy, thoughtful, compassionate, open, attentive, big-hearted...," he whispers as they head toward the parking lot, ignoring Clint's wolf-whistles and Thor's hearty shouts of  _ Congratulations!  _ "...And all mine."

It's all more than worth it when Tony squeaks and nearly trips over the asphalt in response.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oop i always rush the beginnings of fics but hopefully you liked this


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